


Identity

by Alethia



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Accidental Relationship, Bathroom Sex, Comfort Sex, F/M, POV Original Character, Porn, Sex Toys, Thirteen is Fucked Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-16
Updated: 2008-07-16
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:22:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you want to have sex with me in the bathroom?" she asked. Will blinked. Was that an offer or a request for information?</p>
<p>Did it make any difference?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Identity

**Author's Note:**

> In my head, Will is played by Jensen Ackles. Originally posted on LJ [here](http://alethialia.livejournal.com/302234.html).

Will swirled his drink around. There was late, there was 'traffic,' and then there was this. And he was starting to get seriously pissed off.

He looked up when the door opened, confirmed it wasn't his now ex-best friend—and did a double take.

_Jesus_. 

He could make numerous 'so a girl walks into a bar' jokes, but he ignored that instinct to, you know, stare. Kind of humiliatingly, actually.

Her eyes locked onto him and there were those people who appeared hot on first glance, but then when you got a closer look, not so much. 

She was not one of those people. 

Dark, wavy hair that was pulled back so it framed perfect cheekbones and the bluest eyes he'd ever seen.

She headed straight for him. Didn't look away.

Jesus.

"Do you want to have sex with me in the bathroom?" she asked. Will blinked. Was that an offer or a request for information?

Did it make any difference?

"Yes."

A faint smile quirked her lips. "Then let's go."

She didn't look back as she headed toward the bathrooms.

Will gulped the rest of his drink and followed like a man about to get laid. 

Because this was one of those things that didn't actually happen in real life. A girl who looked like that didn't need to pick up guys and fuck them in bar bathrooms. There had to be a catch. Had to be.

"I'm Will," he said as he shut the door behind them. And up close... _damn_. She just got hotter.

"That's nice. Lock the door."

He did. Then he kinda fidgeted because he'd never actually _done_ this, much as it was a familiar scene from porn or fantasy.

She half-smiled again and pushed him back against the door. "Don't get all sentimental on me," she murmured, then pressed her mouth to his, tongue already snaking out to lick along his bottom lip.

Kissing he could do.

He pulled her in, one hand framing her jaw, then moving back to her hair. Her ponytail came loose easily enough and he wrapped a hand in her hair, used it to angle her head and get more of this kiss. And already they were kissing like they were fucking, all wet and heat and sharing each other's breath.

It shouldn't be this easy. It shouldn't—

Her fingers started working at his belt and he promptly lost his train of thought. Because _Jesus_. They were really doing this. He was already hard and she already wanted in his pants in the worst way and okay, that thought seriously didn't help matters. 

Nor did her hand, which she unceremoniously shoved in his boxers. 

He bit her tongue. She made an approving sound in the back of her throat and kept kissing him. 

Then her hand was gone and she had pulled away and it took Will a second to get his eyes working. When he did he decided that was probably a good thing because damn if she wasn't trying to kill him.

Sliding her pants down slim hips, stopping to grab a condom from her pocket—she had _planned_ this—stepping out of one leg and then pressing all up against him again.

Will reversed their positions, pressed her back against the door, and to anyone else that might be a little intimidating, and it had been to some, but this girl just took it and rolled with it, like intimidation was a foreign concept. She hooked one leg around his waist, then hiked herself up and trusted he would hold her there.

He tried not to disappoint. Good thing he'd been making an effort at the gym.

Her nails scratched along his hairline at the base of his neck and she thrust her tongue rhythmically into his mouth. Then she squirmed against his cock meaningfully and Will saw sparks behind his eyes.

"Think you might have to do the honors," he rasped, holding up the condom, bracing her with his other arm.

She plucked it from his hand and wasted no time. Thankfully her hands were quick about it and didn't linger. She brought them back up to grip his shoulders, then hiked herself up a little more and wrapped the other leg around him.

Will pressed her back against the door and got a hand in between them to press her panties aside. He hoped he didn't snap them or anything, but she made an impatient sound into his mouth so he got his cock lined up where it really wanted to go and slid smoothly into her. 

Her head made a thumping sound as she dropped it back against the door. Will took that as approval and pulled out a bit, then sank back in. He drove into her with steady thrusts; he wanted to remember this. Her breath hitched every time he brushed his fingers over her clit. 

She broke another marathon kiss long enough to rasp out "harder" in this voice that was gonna haunt his dreams, he just knew it. 

He sped up, pressing into her harder, but still careful. He ran his fingers teasingly over her clit more and more. There was _no way_ he was coming first and already he could feel it coiling at the base of his spine, heat radiating outwards.

Will groaned as her hips tried to buck; he held her back more firmly, didn't slow his thrusts or his hand.

She gasped, loud in the little room, and let her head fall back. He wanted to watch, he did, but she'd gone tight around him, little rhythmic squeezes that shot his rhythm all to hell, that lit the spine-melting rush inside him and he was too busy remembering how to breathe and, like, not drop her. He thought someone might be banging on the door, or maybe that was just the blood pounding in his ears, and damn. _Damn_.

Reality could outstrip fantasy, after all.

Their panting was the only sound between them. Already the little uncomfortable details of doing this were setting in: his arms and shoulders ached, sweat slicked his back and made his shirt stick uncomfortably, and he needed to get rid of the condom.

Will finally looked at her, eyes gone a little hazy and a lot pleased, and he kissed that mouth again, just had to. Then he pulled out, causing another residual tremor inside her that made him want to start all over again. A hand under her thigh helped her get a foot back on solid ground and she finally loosened her grip on his shoulders. 

"Not my best work ever, but it'll do," he joked, weak. She was slumped against the door, not even half-naked, and he wanted to take her home, peel those clothes off, and see what she looked like wrapped in his sheets.

He didn't even know her fucking _name_.

"Mmm," she said noncommittally, then bent to start dragging on her clothes. Will took care of the condom, shifted his clothing back into place, and when he looked back at her, well, he could tell exactly what they'd been doing: lips red and puffy, flush in her cheeks and at the hollow of her throat, hair still wild.

He did that. Something inside him burned.

She stepped toward him, kissed him on the corner of his mouth. "Nice ride," she said, low.

Then she unlocked the door and stepped back into the noisiness of the bar. And was gone.

***

Will went back to that bar every night for the next week. She never showed up.

On the tenth night, in the midst of kicking himself for being such a pathetic loser—already annoyed that this half-pint blonde chick wouldn't take his silence as an answer—the door opened and he caught a glimpse of dark hair and smooth skin.

She spotted him, took in the girl trying desperately to chat him up, and quirked that little half-smile. And he was instantly, _painfully_ hard. Damn.

She inclined her head toward the bathrooms and started off that way.

Will was only a second behind her, just walked off in the middle of Blondie's Tales of Sorority Life, 2001 Edition.

This time, she locked the door behind him, arm stretched over his shoulder and damn if he didn't remember how she smelled.

Pathetic. Loser.

"Think you might have offended your friend back there," she said, already working at her pants.

"Who?" Because his brain had kinda lost the plot, what with the glimpses of skin and nude panties. God, even her non-hot underwear was hot.

She snorted. "Never mind." Then her mouth was on his and his hand snuck between her legs and really, when The Hottest Thing Ever was happening for the second time around, these things were not important.

She pressed a condom into his hand while she bit at his Adam's apple. Then she backed off and was pushing everything off—no need for dawdling now—but when he turned her back to the door, she resisted.

Will retreated, confused, but she had on that half-smile again and instead of pressing her back to the door, she turned and braced her arms against it. And spread her legs.

Jesus fucking _God_. It was a good thing his pants were already undone.

She looked over her shoulder at him, one eyebrow quirked, amusement in her eyes. It snapped Will back into motion. His hands shook embarrassingly as he put on the condom, but thankfully she couldn't see him. He pressed two fingers into her slickness again, teased her a little. She bowed her forehead against the door and made a soft sound, pressed herself back against him.

Things kinda turned blurry after that. He was pretty sure he bit the back of her neck and he knew he should feel bad about it.

He really didn't.

***

By the fourth time, it wasn't that the hotness had worn off...not at all. It was just—this was a bathroom, for God's sake.

"There are better places to do this," he said, after. She was easier when afterglow smoothed out her rough edges.

"Like where?" she asked, tired but still challenging. 

"My apartment's not far from here." He threw it down like its own challenge. He had a feeling he knew just what she did with those.

***

The next time they fucked up against the door again. Only it was the door of his apartment and even if they hadn't exactly taken advantage of the _reason_ for moving to his place...it still kinda felt like a victory.

***

"So...what should I call you, anyway?" He was running soft fingers up and down her back, liking how she felt next to him. He'd finally gotten her into his bed, finally knew what she looked like when she came apart—and once again, hottest thing _ever_ —and he was feeling pretty good about it all.

Except, you know, he still had _no_ idea who this girl was. It bugged him.

She stiffened under his fingers, but didn't move away. Will kept up the same steady motion, didn't want to let her know he felt that. 

She looked over her shoulder, and that would never fail to remind him of when he'd fucked her from behind in that goddamn dingy bathroom. He kinda wanted to roll over and press himself inside her now, just like that.

"You can call me Thirteen," she said eventually.

Will frowned. Definitely not a name. Title, maybe? "Like, lucky number thirteen?"

She snorted and looked away. Her voice, when it came, was soft: "Yeah, that's me."

***

The next time she met his eyes across the bar, she looked away. Will stayed put, confused again. He tracked her as she made her way across to the other end of the bar. He told himself he wasn't jealous when she started flirting with another chick there. She smiled—fake, he could tell—touched the other's wrist softly.

He didn't bother telling himself he wasn't turned on at the sight.

When they left, obviously seeking some privacy, he finished his drink and went home to get in the shower like the pathetic loser he was. The two of them, all tangled up, that soft touch to a wrist, it all got mixed up in his head and he could _see_ them, what they'd look like in _his_ bed...and then he was shuddering out the most intense orgasm he'd had in a while. Solo, anyway.

He let the spray catch him in the face, rinsed everything away. Stupid to dwell. It wasn't like they were in a relationship or anything. He didn't even want to be; he liked their arrangement just fine. She was hot and horny and not annoying and clingy like most girls. They got off and got out. It was ideal. And that was where it ended. She'd made that quite clear.

Will put it out of his mind; he needed to practice, anyway.

He wandered over to his spare room—sometimes guestroom/office/practice space/junk room/etc. Picking the cello out of its case, it felt like a living thing in his hands, like it always did...but he couldn't find the desire in himself, the spark that made him want to get lost in it.

He already knew he'd suck tonight, accepted it, but you pushed through it and moved on. That was part of the life.

A clear knock reverberated through his apartment and put a halt to those thoughts. Will frowned, set the instrument gently in its case, and padded to the door.

He blinked at the sight of her.

She flicked her eyes down his frame—what? A t-shirt and pajama pants were just fine when the rest of the city was asleep—and stepped forward.

"Girls are kind of annoying after," she stated, bald and upfront like she was. Will felt the humor well up from somewhere and tried to keep himself level. Was that her version of an apology? Or...commiseration?

"She try to hold your hand?"

She rolled her eyes and walked around him, like he'd invited her in. 

He would have if she'd given him the chance. Already his body felt primed, like he hadn't come all over his shower wall an hour ago.

"Busy?" she asked, surveying his apartment like she expected to find someone else there. And maybe she did expect him to have company. What? As retaliation? 'You can fuck some chick, well, so can I?'

Please. He wasn't pathetic enough to be that petty.

Will shut the door. "Nah. You hungry?"

***

Walking to his apartment one evening—because his place _was_ close; he really wasn't the type to range very far in his alcohol-seeking behavior—they passed a couple guys making out up against an apartment building. The two were shadowed by the stairs; he would have missed them entirely had one not moaned, low. 

Will breathed in deep; the air was crisp. It was a good night for pushing someone up against hard surfaces, keeping yourself warm with them.

When he turned to convey these brilliant thoughts of his, she was still looking back at the guys, even though they were almost to the end of the block.

Interesting.

She caught him watching her, raised an eyebrow. "You ever kissed a guy?"

"Yeah. You ever kissed a guy?" he asked, teasing.

His answer seemed to have caught her attention; she didn't respond to the tease. "Ever slept with a guy?"

"You're gonna have to define 'slept with,'" he said idly. She kept looking a question at him, not the questions she asked, but one about his demeanor, behavior, something.

Then again, what the fuck did he know? She'd never really asked about him before.

"Ever got off with a guy," she clarified, like that clarified anything.

"Sure," he said easily. He took the stairs of his building two at a time; she kept right up with him.

"How?" she asked.

He grinned, unlocked the door, and let her step inside. "Handjobs, blowjobs, circle jerks, if we're gonna go really far back." The door clicked shut behind him; he turned the lock.

"You ever want more?" And she wasn't letting this go. Hmm.

"Why, thinking of investing in a strap-on?"

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, so he knew something sharp was coming: "What makes you think I haven't already?"

His mind did a blank-out thing while he called up _that_ image and, "...damn. Okay, that's hot."

He tossed his keys, shucked his jacket, shoes. A wave toward the kitchen asked if she wanted anything. She shook her head, once.

"You didn't answer my question."

"What, if I wanted to?" Will shrugged. "It's not a burning need in the depth of my soul or anything. If there was a guy I would, if not, you know." Figuring she'd gotten to ask so many questions, he at least deserved one: "Why the interest?"

"What do you mean?" Like she didn't know what he meant.

"It's not like we've been playing 'let's confess our innermost desires' or anything. Up to now," he amended.

She stiffened, and what? Did she think that was a criticism? "If I made you uncomfortable—"

"Not at all," he interrupted, wanting to be clear on that. "But you've got me curious. And horny," he added. Not that that was anything new.

***

Which was pretty much how he ended up on his hands and knees, trying to get some kind of leverage, cursing like he didn't know what as she pressed a vibrator so far _inside_ him he'd swear she was trying to get at an internal organ or two. The thing felt fucking huge and she had it angled so it hit his prostate every goddamn time and oh, yeah, _vibrated_.

She'd set up a mirror so she could watch his face, draped over his back like she was, one hand working the vibrator and the other hand working _him_ , both so good he didn't know if he wanted to push forward so his cock slid in her hand or backward so the vibrator slid into him. His breath was hitching, muscles shaking, sensation overload. She hmmed and bit his ear and then he was flying, every muscle pulled tight, her hand still working—thank fucking _Christ_ —as he came all over his mattress and promptly collapsed on top of the mess.

And didn't fucking care.

He felt her turn the damned thing off, pull it out of him slowly—weirdest feeling ever—and then he kind of drifted. Sound carried most: the snap of latex coming off, water running in the bathroom. Then she was back and cleaning him up and God, he could just die here a happy man.

Will rolled over at her urging and watched, silent, as she wiped off what she could, tossed the cloth on the floor. Hair all over the place, eyes almost dark, tracing idly over his abs. He looked at her and really wanted to get hard again so he could fuck her for the favor.

Not that that would be happening any time soon.

He cleared his throat. "Seriously, I am gonna eat you out like a king just as soon as I get my sea legs back."

She half-smiled and threw a leg over him, laid down next to him, still watching. For what, he had no idea. 

"Think you're mixing your metaphors, there," she said eventually.

He could still feel her eyes on him, so he blinked his own open and watched her watch him. "What is it you're looking for?"

"Sexual identity crisis," she said, light. 

He laughed, weak. "Sorry, all out."

"You liked having something up your ass." In her coaxing-challenging voice.

"Mmm, I think that'd be obvious. I also liked getting sucked off by another guy, sucking off another guy, and on and on. Do I care if that makes me bisexual or whatever? Not so much. Seems to me that the only people concerned with the label bs are the ones who don't know who they are." He sighed. "But seriously, I'm so eating you out. Just...gimme a minute." 

Her soft laugh followed him to sleep.

***

After a month or so—it wasn't like he had the date circled or anything; he wasn't a goddamn _girl_ —they stopped meeting at the bar. It was easier and besides, she knew where he lived. She could come straight over.

***

It tended to be in waves, he noticed. She wouldn't be around for a few days, maybe even a week, and then out of nowhere he'd find her at his door. After that it was a pretty sure thing that she'd come back night after night, four days in a row usually. Then he wouldn't see her again and the whole cycle started over.

***

One night she showed up in scrubs, some kind of haunted look in her eyes. She just stood at the door, staring at nothing. Will ushered her inside, peeled her out of her clothes, and started a shower for her. He kept his touch light in case...well, he didn't really know what, but in case. A gentle press urged her to the shower stall and that seemed to incite some automatic functioning; she got in without him, splashing noises told him she was at least moving.

Picking up her scrubs he noticed the badge: Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Remy Hadley. She was a doctor. He knew more about her from this badge than he did from fucking her for months.

He set the scrubs aside and went to get her one of his t-shirts.

It took a few minutes to finally dig out one that wasn't so short it'd be an unintentional tease. In the bathroom she was wrapped in a towel, hair wet and pulled back from her face, sitting on the toilet. She was studying the wall.

The wall wasn't that fascinating.

"Here we go." Will smiled and held up the t-shirt, like some kind of retarded offering. Her gaze shifted to him and he actually saw when her brain switched over from one emotion to the next. One moment she sat there in some kind of silent despair, the next she was up and pulling him to her, their mouths crushing together.

Will dropped the shirt.

She bit him, _vicious_ , then latched onto his mouth again and _sucked_. She backed him out of the bathroom with her hold on his shirt, mouth forcing retreat. Will tried to keep up, kissing her back, but then his legs hit something and she shoved and he was falling onto the bed in a daze.

She dropped the towel, climbed on top of him...and that was pretty much it for rational thought.

***

She tried to leave, after. Started moving quietly to the edge of the bed. Will caught her arm and tugged her back. He caught her in a kiss, made it thorough enough to give him time to curl around her, trace gentle fingers along her back like she liked. She gave in soon enough, shifting and sighing against him. 

He rolled between her legs and kissed a trail from her mouth down her body, soft, deliberate, but she still gasped when he spread her and licked delicately over her clit. Two fingers went inside her where she was wet, twisted, and Will licked around and around, never quite reaching where she wanted him to go.

"Will," she rasped, a warning. He made a negative sound and kept going until her hips wouldn't stay still, until she couldn't hold in those hot little mewls. She still tried, though. A fighter to the end.

And then he relented, flicked his tongue over her just so, and she convulsed and mewled and came, her internal muscles fluttering around his fingers. 

He drew it out until she made a helpless, weak sound, and then he brought her back down. She shook from the overload. He was near there himself, his cock heavy against the mattress. 

Random kisses up her body and then he caught her mouth again, sharing taste. She didn't back away, just licked right into his mouth. If possible, it made him harder. He ignored it, just kept on kissing her, tracing little touches everywhere he could reach until she grabbed for a condom herself.

He lifted up, helped, and now he understood why she was so mindful and insistent on condoms specifically, doctor that she was. But that thought floated away with her hands sliding latex on him, reaching for him urgently.

Will resisted the pace. He pressed himself against her and held on when she wrapped a thigh around him. If she could she'd turn it into some kind of rough and crazy sex romp; he had the scratches down his back and what felt like bruises on his hips from last night to prove it.

So he made it slow and thorough. He nuzzled down her neck, licked at her nipples, touched fingers to her cheekbones, all while keeping up a steady slide in and out. She protested, wordless, but he held her head and stared into her eyes as he moved in her. She didn't protest again.

It took a bit, but inevitably he had her shaking in his arms again as she fell apart around him. Will watched, made sure to see, and only when she relaxed back, gasping, did he lower his forehead and let himself go in a dizzying rush of pleasure that pulled a groan from him, long and low.

Finding the self-control to roll away from her and get rid of the condom took more effort than he'd have liked. Surprisingly, she was in the same place when he rolled back, her body loose and boneless against his sheets.

He settled, felt the tightness in his muscles and the dull ache of his back. He was going to be sore today. She might not be able to walk.

Will turned onto his side so he could watch her profile, then stretched his arm across her stomach, hand resting on her hipbone. He didn't try to pull her close. There were some things she discouraged and some things that just weren't allowed. Period.

He wasn't surprised that she was gone the next time he woke.

***

Generally, if he pulled her back as she was trying to leave he wouldn't see her for a few days. Doubly so if he insisted on something other than crazy-frantic sex.

Thus it was a little surprising to hear the knock at his door around seven that evening.

Will opened it...and blinked. Guy with a cane. Will had never seen him before.

The other man seemed equally surprised, like Will was something he hadn't expected. Did he have the right apartment?

"Can I help you?" Will tried after a silent beat.

"So you're the boytoy." Rough voice, caustic...trying to get a rise out of him. Will relaxed against the door and made sure not to cross his arms over his chest. He didn't need to be defensive.

"And you are..."

"You can call me Greg. I work with Thirteen." It was the first time Will had heard that used like a real name. It sounded natural coming from this man. It slotted somewhere in his head. 'You can call me Thirteen.' Right.

"Oh. Nice to meet you. I guess," he added. And as an afterthought: "Will."

"You weren't surprised at 'Thirteen,'" he said shrewdly.

"Should I be?"

A snort. He was amused, eyes crinkling at the corners. He needed a shave.

"Something funny?" Will kept his tone inquisitive, not combative. He got the feeling this was not a man anyone wanted to fight with. Anyone sane, at least. 

"The irony: hers is a guy named Will." He looked like he relished that a little too much, actually.

"How'd you know where I live?" he asked instead. He doubted she was telling everyone about her nightly jaunts.

"I followed her last night," he said easily, like that wasn't a completely sketchy thing to say.

"Oh...kay, _that's_ creepy."

The guy—Greg, but it didn't seem to fit—pinned him with a glance. Far too insightful.

"You even know her name?" he asked, deliberately mild.

Will didn't hesitate. "Yes." He hadn't asked if she'd told him herself, after all.

"Whisper it in her ear, along with sweet nothings at night?"

Trying to get a rise out of him. Right. "None of your business," Will said evenly.

Greg looked away. "She okay last night?" If he had asked with anything other than concern—and nothing more than—Will would have blown him off.

Instead he softened his voice. "She was okay."

Greg looked back at him, straight into his eyes. "Good. Hate for her to be distracted at work. Lives to save and all."

Will smiled, but didn't act surprised. He _had_ known, after all. "You should get back to it."

Greg's eyes warmed, a small little half-smile appearing, almost like...approval. Then he reorganized his look and it became something sly. "Tonight? Tonight's babe night. Happen to know where I can get a hooker this hour?"

"Not the in the slightest."

"Ah, well. That's why I have 'em on speed dial." He wandered off without a goodbye.

Will shook his head and closed the door. That was—the most bizarre interrogation he'd ever had.

A quick Google search for "Greg" and "Princeton-Plainsboro" brought up the CV of one Dr. Gregory House, world-renown Diagnostician, and all-around pain in the ass. He got results, even if his peers seemed...less enthused by his tactics. Just this side of insane, they said.

Yeah. Will could see that.

More interesting, he was the head of Diagnostics. A department head wouldn't be randomly checking in on other doctors, not unless they worked for him or he was sleeping with them.

Will was almost sure she wasn't sleeping with Dr. House...so she must work for him. And put up with him. In Diagnostics.

Dr. Remy Hadley, diagnostician. With a combative, insightful boss, to boot. Interesting.

His fingers itched to Google her. He shut the computer off instead.

***

Will didn't see her for a few days, as he'd thought. When he did, he waited until after she was sweaty and sated to bring up his visitor. Rough edges and all that.

Plus he really liked fucking her. And he knew she wouldn't be happy.

Will ran a single finger over her collarbone, smiling a little when she shifted into the touch.

"So...funny thing. Some guy with a cane showed up at my door a few nights back."

She bolted up so fast you'd swear something had zapped her. Hand pressing the sheet to her chest, looking down at him incredulously, and he still thought she was hotter than anything else ever.

Really very pathetic. He should accept it now and give in to his lot in life.

"What? Came here? What'd he say? What'd _you_ say?"

And that was more intensity than any other time he'd seen her. Excepting when he really got her to let loose as they were fucking, of course.

Will watched her mildly. "He called me your boytoy."

She let out a disbelieving breath and looked down. "You're telling me this _now_?" she asked instead.

"When should I have told you?" Light, no accusation, had to keep it easy. 

"When he showed up at your door." Obvious. Except didn't she get it? This was _her_.

"How?" he asked simply. "I don't have any way of contacting you. You want it that way." That last might have been a little too much...but it was true, dammit.

She breathed out again, then flopped back. She didn't look at him. "What else did he say?" she asked, resigned to it.

"He followed you here the night before, which, by the way? Creepy."

"Let me guess: you told him that."

"Totally." She huffed out a laugh, then was quiet, waiting. "He was checking on you," Will continued.

She finally looked over at him. "He say that?"

"Asked if you were okay. Seemed sincere about it."

"House can _seem_ sincere about a lot of things. What'd you tell him?"

"That you were okay. And, for the record, I could tell when he was testing me and trying to rattle me. He was sincere." Will ran the back of his fingers along her arm, just light.

She looked at him askance. "How long was he _here_?"

"Five minutes. Then he said something about hookers and took off."

She snorted again. "That sounds like him." She settled into the quiet then. Will kept running his hand along her arm. He liked it when she stayed for a bit.

"Well?" she finally asked.

"Well, what?"

She skewered him with a look. "Aren't you gonna ask?"

Seeing as he had already Googled him and all..."I figured you'd tell me what you wanted me to know."

" _Right_. Some guy shows up asking if I'm okay and you're not even curious? He could have been anyone. He could have been some stalker I didn't even know."

"He called you Thirteen."

She blinked, like she hadn't expected that one.

"Oh."

"Seemed surprised that I wasn't surprised." Will flashed her a small smile. "And I am curious. Just...not pushing."

She studied him for a moment, then relaxed back and stared at the ceiling again. "He's my boss."

Will nodded. "That sounds like fun," he said, dry.

"Every day's an adventure," she agreed. And that was—more than he'd ever gotten out of her, really. A sleepy kind of contentment stole over him. He curled toward her, settled without touching, without caging her, and played with a lock of her hair.

He could do this, he decided. This was good.

***

"And so here's this douchebag, laughingstock of the Street, and he's all swaggering around about everyone knowing his name," Lainie said, miming some jock-type investment banker. Will laughed with her, took a sip of his wine—

A knock sounded at his door. A very familiar knock.

Crap.

"Your face!" Lainie squealed. "Who is it? Is it a girl? I bet it's a girl. I knew you had a girl! Mom's gonna freak out." And before he could stop her—or figure out how to handle this—she had pulled open the door with a voluble "Hi!"

Thirteen—he'd even started thinking of her that way, _God_ —looked startled. "Hi," she said, slow.

"I'm Lainie, Will's big sister. Come in!" Perky and peppy and she probably hated his sister already.

He kind of hated his sister, actually.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," she said as she took in the pasta on the stove, their glasses of wine, Lainie's bag dumped just inside the front door.

"You're not interrupting," Will said, deciding just to go with it. "We were getting ready for dinner. Join us?"

For the first time she looked trapped, ready to bolt at any second. They didn't do dinner unless Will happened to be cooking when she showed up. They didn't do dinner with Will's family, you know, ever.

"It's fine," he soothed. "No problem at all." Trying to reassure her without his sister catching on. His sister who had thankfully shut her mouth to go stir the pasta. 

He kind of loved his sister.

"Sure," Thirteen said eventually. "I was just going to—" She motioned to his room and he guessed she wanted to shower—damn, no shower sex now—and he waved her that way. 

"Yeah, go ahead."

Thankfully Lainie held the interrogation until the bathroom door shut firmly.

"Oh, my God!" she whisper-yelled. "She's way too cute for you! How come I haven't heard about this?" 

Will moved over and took his dear sister's shoulders. "Okay, I know it'll probably kill you inside, but you have to listen to me." Lainie watched him wide-eyed, but at least he had her attention. "You cannot ask her questions about herself."

Lainie opened her mouth, but Will kept on going. "No, nothing. Not about who she is or what she does or how we met or anything. Teach her financial statement analysis for all I care. But no questions. Not even any leading statements. Seriously." He put the seriousness in his eyes and felt Lainie settle under his hands.

"You really like her, huh?"

Will let her go and scratched the back of his head, not knowing how to answer that one. Lainie patted his cheek and gave him that big sister look he hated. "Okay, okay. I'll be good."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Scout's honor." She even held up three fingers.

***

And she was. Very good. She didn't ask a single question. 

Of course, in retaliation she pulled out every embarrassing story from Will's youth, you know, _ever_. Both women were laughing at him as he sulked into his ice cream and they didn't even care. Freakin' sisters.

Except...she was laughing. Soft and low, but genuine enough. There were worse things.

"He's barricaded himself in the bathroom, right? But I had already learned my master lockpicking skills—"

"What lockpicking skills? You stick a pin in the doorknob and it unlocks. C'mon," Will protested.

"For an eight-year-old that's pretty good," she shot back. Then returned to her story. "So I'm on the floor sticking a pin in the doorknob and he's on the other side of the door pushing the lock back in as soon as he can. Our other sister is twisting at the knob trying to get it open before he can lock it again. Over and over and over until Dad hears the noise, comes over and booms out 'What is going on over here?'" She glanced at Will. "You want to finish?"

"Not really," he muttered.

"And then he made Will open the door and found my little bro with curlers in his hair and made up to the nines." She put a hand over her heart. "You looked very fetching."

"I hate you."

"And Dad took pictures," Lainie added, like it was an afterthought. Which it wasn't because she was _evil_. "I still have them."

_Hated_ his sister.

"You do not," he sulked. "I burned them when I was twelve."

"Think so, huh?" And that was—mildly concerning.

But Thirteen was smiling at the tale and his sister was merrily bopping along and really, he couldn't keep up any kind of bad mood. It was impossible.

"And with that, I am headed for bed." Lainie started off, then turned back like a pixie on crack. "Did I mention I'm on vacation?"

"Might have heard that a couple times," Will said.

"Fantastic! I expect not to be awakened before ten. Seriously. I don't care how important a piece it is or how many hours Mozart spent writing it or whatever." The she brightened: "Night!" She skipped off to the now-guestroom and shut the door behind her.

Will turned to Thirteen. "She'll be up and on the phone by seven, no question."

"Damn workaholics," she agreed with a glint in her eyes.

"That's what I'm talking about," he muttered, then winked at her. He stood and pulled her to her feet, weaving her back toward his bedroom with his hands in the back pockets of her jeans. "Now what do you say I grab the rest of the ice cream and we find some recreational uses for it?"

"With your sister here? I'm shocked." She didn't sound shocked, though. Sneaking a hand under his shirt didn't help there, either.

"I live on the edge." He kicked the door shut behind him, then pressed his mouth to hers. His hands framed her face and he concentrated on just tasting her, like he'd been dying to do since Lainie opened the damn door.

Normally, his sister here, no way in hell he'd have a girl over. But _this_ girl...he couldn't quite help himself.

She hmmed into his mouth and then unceremoniously pushed him back on the bed. He let himself bounce and enjoyed the way she climbed on top of him. She skimmed her shirt off, then leaned over to kiss him again. 

He pressed three fingers into her stomach and kissed her back.

Bur instead of getting with the removal of clothes and dirty, kinky sex...she stopped. And propped her chin on her hands as she kind of rested on top of him.

Okay...

"Know what I noticed?" she asked, studying him. Her hair already looked like they'd been fucking when he hadn't even gotten her pants off yet. That was...unfair.

"What's that?" He twirled a lock around his fingers.

"Lainie never asked me anything. Not even my name."

Will made a show of considering it. "Huh. Guess you're right."

She narrowed her eyes and playfully pinched his side. He laughed and caught her hand, bringing it to his lips. She settled again, traced a finger under his eye, watched him. He wondered what she saw.

"Remy," she said, out of nowhere. 

And he knew what it meant, but had to ask anyway. Like, really needed to, because did she say what he thought she said? "I'm sorry?"

"My name," she clarified, looking defiantly into his eyes. "Dr. Remy Hadley of Princeton-Plainsboro—"

Will kissed her before she could finish. He wound a hand in her hair and deepened it, explored her mouth like it was new. When he broke away they were both panting. He nipped at her lips again. "Can I still call you Thirteen?"

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.


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